Radiance
by Tripleguess
Summary: A collection of post DoC oneshots focusing on the odd friendship between Yuffie Kisiragi and Vincent Valentine. [Possible mild spoilers for Dirge of Cerberus.]
1. Child of the Night

**Child of the Night** _  
a post-FFVII: Dirge of Cerberus fanfiction by Tripleguess  
First in the Radiance collection  
Possible **mild spoilers** for DoC  
Genre: Drama/Character  
Rated PG  
September 1, 2006 _

_Summary: Yuffie was never one to simply let things be._

The wind blew cold across this broken, sunforsaken landscape. A low fog obscured the sky, and tirelessly shredded itself against rock outcroppings thrusting from barren scree. It wasn't raining, but the mist-laden air was so damp that it hardly mattered. Moisture clung to every boulder, and drops meandered down every vertical surface, amassing ever more liquid until they fell to the ground.

Amid the thickening twilight, one man-made star winked into being, almost hidden within a tumble of massive boulders. No bigger than a teacup, it nevertheless danced merrily within its circle of rocks, defying the night with its cheery shine and casting a faint orange glow over its maker and the rough granite boulders nearby.

The man sitting by the fire was not looking at it. Doing so would destroy his night vision, and he knew this. But he wasn't looking at his surroundings, either. His head was bowed over one knee, as though in deep thought. A kettle of broth simmered on the grill; a cup of broth cooled beside him, untouched.

There was no apparent reason for him to suddenly lift his head. The wind sighed uninterrupted; the fog drifted on noiselessly. There were no sudden birdcries, for there were no birds, and crickets did not cease singing for the simple reason that there were none.

Yet look up he did, scanning the night fruitlessly. Perhaps the utter absence of telltale sounds told him enough, for after a moment he relaxed.

"How did you find me?"

Another silence; another drop in the ocean of quiet that blanketed this place.

Two moccasined feet stepped into the circle of firelight; a gentle invasion, neither invited nor entirely unwelcome. "Your tin footwear, that's how. Marks up the scree something awful."

She squatted to warm her hands near the flames, flicking bandana tails out of harm's way. "You _would_ wear the only material that'd scuff rock."

He said nothing; instead, he produced a second cup and filled it with broth. She accepted it gratefully, nursing the cup with both hands. "Thanks."

Her expression was more serious than usual, he noticed. Perhaps because of her father's recent illness, and her subsequently increased duties as heir to Wutai. She too, child of the night that she was, refused to look into the flames, taking in his meager campsite instead; a bedroll, one supply pack, a small pile of semi-dry wood. This close to the mining town, he didn't need many supplies.

"It's a step up from the coffin, I guess," she remarked.

He flinched.

She held her cup out for a refill as though she hadn't noticed. "You need moccasins if you don't want to be tracked. Not," she amended with a smirk, "that they'll do you any good in my case."

She chattered on, sharing unasked the news from Edge and Wutai. Reeve had adopted Shelke, whose health was improving under cutting-edge treatments from the WRO. "She's starting to grow again -- should hit biological eleven soon. Still talks like a thirty-year-old, though."

Denzel and Marlene had taken it upon themselves to introduce the child-soldier to ice cream and recess, hopscotch and tag. The ex-Tsviet was altogether too serious about games, but was otherwise a quick study.

"She's taken a shine to Cait Sith, for some reason." A wink. "Must be the red cape."

Godo was slowly recovering from his illness, but he was getting on in years. "And, well, I used to think he'd live forever, but he's going grey..."

Wutai had had a plentiful harvest, a great benefit to the war-impoverished country. "Who knows -- another good year like this, and we might have rice to export next year. Extra manpower to work the pearl beds again, even."

She stood and stretched, working stiffness out of her joints. "Heaven preserve us from this damp! You'll go arthritic in this wretched weather, Vince."

He shifted. "I've been hired to safeguard the mines."

"There are monsters in the tropics too, you know." She stripped off a shoe, balancing nimbly on one leg to shake out a pebble. "Plus grass and sunshine and beaches and nice stuff like that." She tugged her shoe back on and sat down.

He studied his boots. She was right about them marking the rocks.

"Vincent." The question was abrupt, unexpected. "Do you think she really cared about you?"

His gaze jerked upward. He knew who she meant. "How did you --"

"Shelke," she said calmly, and sipped her broth. One thumb circled her cup rim slowly. "Well?"

She wasn't asking out of spite, but...

Honesty struggled with resentment as memories burned, angering him on more than one level.

"Because if she did," Yuffie continued matter-of-factly, when the silence had stretched out unbearably, "she wouldn't want you rotting away in a place like this. And if she didn't..."

She trailed off, giving him a chance to object. Vincent, still wrestling his thoughts, was silent. Yuffie met his gaze full on, assessing him carefully.

"...well, that's a stupid reason to bury yourself alive, don't you think?"

She downed the rest of the broth. "Thanks for the snack," she said, and tossed another stick on the fire. Sparks scurried upward like frantic fireflies. She set her empty cup next to his and patted him on the shoulder. "'Night, Vincent."

He listened to her tuneless whistle as she moved off into the night, following some unmarked path back to town. He vowed not to think about her words, which only made them whirl faster through his mind.

_-- stupid reason --_

The whistling faded as the wind picked up, carrying with it the faintest ghost of a laugh.

He jolted upright and felt his belt. When had she --?

His breath came out in a sharp, wordless exclamation. His wallet was gone.

X X X

The mining town had little to offer him when it wasn't payday. Narshe was higher than the monster-infested wilds, and so saw more of the sun, who often broke through the fog to pay a visit. It was also sheltered by cliffs to the north, and so wasn't as windy or cold. But he practiced a stoic indifference to such comforts.

Still, the town now held one item that interested him very much: his wallet.

He knew she wouldn't leave town with it; doing so would strand him with few supplies and no money. That wasn't what she wanted. He avoided speculations as to what she _did_ want, reflecting that, for such an outgoing person, the shinobi could be surprisingly enigmatic.

He was equally certain she would not revisit his camp to return her prize; hence this unplanned visit to town.

The landscape here was still rugged, but the townsfolk had made efforts to brighten it. Colorful lichens grew over whimsically arranged rock gardens; hardy annuals swayed within freshly painted white picket fences. Seasonal garlands bobbed on lamp posts and doors, and the town's main drag had been gravelled to tame the mud. Cheerfully patterned marquees fluttered over shop awnings and patios, and there were flowers on the cafe tables -- flowers wired to stone vases to keep them from blowing away in the frequent gusts of wind.

The flutter of white-bordered black silk beneath a cafe awning caught his eye. Yuffie, it seemed, found the flowers agreeable company.

She was studying a menu when he strode into the cafe. He commandeered the chair opposite her and fixed her with an expectant gaze.

She looked up from the menu, eyes laughing. Vincent kept his face stern with an effort and held out his hand.

His timing could not have been worse. A waitress arrived with two steaming bowls, one of which Yuffie placed in his conveniently outstretched hand. His lip twitched in spite of himself.

"It's curry," she coaxed, and dug in. He followed suit resignedly, as he had no other plans for breakfast. It _was_ good. Narshe's perpetually cold weather was one reason for its storied hot recipes.

Only when his bowl was empty did she proffer the wallet. "I already paid for breakfast."

He raised a brow; she rolled her eyes. "With _my_ money, of course!"

He riffled through the bills. Sure enough, none were missing. He slid a five under a salt shaker for the waitress. A puff of wind worried at the loose bill end; Yuffie put the pepper shaker over it.

"Why?" he asked finally.

Yuffie shrugged, then flashed a grin. "Just to remind you that I can still rob you blind." She winked, then turned serious. "Remember what I said, Vincent."

He looked across the street, away from her piercing gaze. "Yuffie --"

The menu flapped in the breeze and sailed away, tumbling end over end as it soared through the air.

She was gone.

**-The End**

_No flames, please. Constructive feedback is welcome, and I really appreciate hearing reader reactions._

_Acknowledgements: This story was influenced by **Nagia**'s Yuffietine essays; the links are on her FFNet profile.Yes, I know Narshe is a FF6 town. Humor me?_

_**Disclaimer:** This story not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Square-Enix, to whom all relevant characters and trademarks belong. **Child of the Night** itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived._


	2. Dying is Harder

**Dying is Harder** _  
a post-FFVII: Dirge of Cerberus fanfiction by Tripleguess  
Second in the Radiance collection  
Possible **mild spoilers** for DoC  
Genre: Drama/Character  
Rated PG+ for atmosphere  
September 7, 2006 _

_Summary: It wasn't your typical bouquet._

He stared morosely at the mansion looming over him. Here, in this place, the bright spring weather annoyed him. Shinra Mansion should always be clothed in shadows and clouds. The sunlight had no business here.

_It's just an assignment,_ he rationalized as he pushed the courtyard gates open. _Reeve wants to know if old Shinra hid anything about DeepGround in the lab's databases, that's all._

He could have asked for another assignment, traded jobs with someone else. In fact, he knew one WRO agent who would've jumped at the chance, if only to spare him.

He put the thought aside, as it discomfited him, and made his way to the lab. No one now living knew it as well as he did.

It was dimly lit. Cobwebs wreathed the ceiling and shrouded the weeping ghosts in every corner.

He felt right at home.

He brushed webbing from a keyboard and plugged in Reeve's new toy, a geodesic spheroid. The gadget beeped cooperatively and began downloading data.

The air was cold... cold and clammy. The chill seemed to seep into his very bones. He could almost feel his heart slowing.

The spheroid's insistent beeping broke his reverie. It was done. He plugged it into the next computer, straightened... and sensed a presence behind him. He whirled, coming face to face with a reflection. His own image stared warily at him from the surface of an inactive projection screen.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting paranoid.

He switched the spheroid several more times. Dark thoughts still beckoned, but the sensation of an unseen presence remained so strong that he couldn't heed them. He spent the next two hours fighting the urge to look behind -- a battle he often lost only to be greeted by cobwebs and shadows. By the time the data gathering was over, he was glad to leave.

He could have gone back the way he came, but something drew him to the sewer exit.

_It's been months. There might be monsters. I can clear some on the way out, make the mansion safer for other agents. _

Right.

He felt eyes following him every step of the way, from the moment he left the elevator until water splashed over his boots. Maybe the place really was haunted. He refused to whirl around any more, but he did sneak a glance or two over his shoulder, hiding the looks behind his unkempt hair.

Nothing.

He shook himself mentally. A very familiar little cul-de-sac was drawing nearer with every step.

_Might be... monsters... in there..._

There'd been one thirty years ago, after all.

A black box, half awash in sewage, red cross gleaming dully in the subterranean chamber. He approached the object as though hypnotized. One hand reached out of its own accord... hesitated...

...raised the lid.

His eyes widened; the lid slipped into the water with a splash.

Someone had evidently thought it worthwhile to uproot every thistle on the mansion grounds and _cram_ it into the coffin. And not just any thistles, but prime specimens of the Bahamut variety -- so named for their flame-colored blooms and rapier spines.

Nestled amongst the fearsome plants was a scrap of paper. Intrigued, he fished it out with his bronze-sheathed left hand. He had to squint to make out the scrawled writing, but the effort proved worthwhile.

_"Don't even think about it."_

It wasn't signed, but it might as well have been. He stared at it, then at the thistles. It was all so ludicrous -- the box, the spines, the flowers, the terse injunction -- that he could only laugh. The sewers themselves seemed shocked by the sound, quiet and reluctant as it was. Perhaps it also broke some spell he hadn't known he was under, for his heart lightened and the shadows retreated a little.

He really hadn't intended to, well, do what he'd done twice before. Still, it was oddly reassuring to know that any actual attempt at a third encore would be opposed.

He emerged into sunlight still shaking his head. He hadn't run across a single monster.

X X X

Reeve met him at the door of the WRO office, worry creasing his brow. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Vincent assured him. He looked over Reeve's shoulder. Another WRO agent was sprawled across two armless office chairs, feet kicking in time to her Walkman music. The undignified position rather clashed with her spotless uniform. Her eyes were closed.

He gave the spheroid to Reeve. "I downloaded everything. There should be no need to go back."

"You're sure you didn't miss any hidden databanks?" Reeve cradled the spheroid anxiously, like a mother with her newborn. "We need every scrap of information we can get if we're to rehabilitate the remaining DeepGround soldiers. Shelke's not the only one, you know."

"Hmph." Vincent tilted his head at the spheroid. His tone was sour. "Don't forget who I used to work for."

He stepped past Reeve and headed for the coffee pot. He hoped it was at least strong and black. Anything resembling flavor was too much to ask of office brew.

He paused beside the WRO agent and grabbed her wrist.

"Hey!" She bolted upright as he deftly pushed her uniform sleeve elbow high, baring her forearm.

Not a scratch.

"It's mine!" she protested, yanking free to clutch her Walkman possessively. "Bought and paid for with hard-earned WRO wages! Get your own portable!"

Puzzled, he caught her other wrist, earning a second yelp.

"Vincent Valentine, if you don't unhand me _right now,_ I'll --"

He scrutinized her other arm. Nothing.

"Sorry, Yuffie." He let her snatch her wrist back and went to the cupboard to scrounge up a cup. He could feel her glare heating the back of his neck. "My mistake."

The proverbial cupboard was bare, but the sink was piled high with dirty cocoa mugs. And the perpetrator was probably 5'2" and Wutaian. He settled for a styrofoam cup and helped himself to the coffee.

"Did you have any problems?" Reeve called. He was already at his computer, hands flying over the keyboard as he began the long process of evaluating the spheroid's contents.

"None worth mentioning." The coffee, to Vincent's surprise, was good. Someone must have brought their own instead of using the long-expired office grind. He glanced at Yuffie. She was lost to the world again, one arm flung over her face as she hummed along with the Walkman.

"Good, good." Reeve nodded distractedly, already absorbed in his work.

Vincent finished his coffee leisurely, listening to the quiet sounds of Reeve typing and Yuffie drumming her heels against a chair leg. Reeve had added new paintings to the office, he noted. Most were peaceful nature scenes or warm sunrise landscapes. Fitting. The WRO and its founder were all about new beginnings, after all.

He threw his cup away, then did a double take.

"Yuffie, did you really eat three cans of whipped cream?" he asked, looking from her to the trash can.

She grimaced, forearm still firmly over her eyes. "Don't remind me."

That explained why she wasn't bouncing off the office walls as usual. "I don't think I need to," he said dryly. He whisked something out of the trash and slipped it under a fold of his cloak, then crossed to Reeve.

"I think all your cocoa is gone," he said quietly.

Reeve smiled tiredly. "And the bear claws. And the cream puffs. _And_ the jelly beans. She's a high-upkeep employee." He threw a fond glance at the dozing kunoichi. "Worth it, though."

"Oh, never a dull moment," Vincent agreed, and turned to go. "So long, Reeve."

"Keep in touch," Reeve admonished. Vincent lifted a hand in acknowledgement and left.

Not until he was safely outside did he reach under his cloak to examine the item he'd retrieved from the trash.

Just as he'd thought... a small, tattered gardening glove full of Bahamut spines.

**-The End**

_No flames, please. Don't like, don't read. That aside, I do appreciate hearing reader reactions. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one!_

_**Disclaimer:** This story not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Square-Enix, to whom all relevant characters and trademarks belong. **Dying is Harder** itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived._


	3. Let Freedom Ring

**Let Freedom Ring** _  
a post-FFVII: Dirge of Cerberus fanfiction by Tripleguess  
Third in the Radiance collection  
Possible **mild spoilers** for DoC  
Genre: Action/Character  
Rated PG-13 lite for action violence  
September 11, 2006 _

_Summary: Phones are nothing but trouble!_

He groaned as his phone went off, fumbling for a pillow with which to muffle the insistent beeping. He was an early riser when he felt like it, but four in the morning was pushing it.

The heavy down pillow did a fine job of muting the sound. He glared at the nightstand which currently held both the noisy problem and its short-term solution. He was now faced with two equally unwelcome alternatives.

Alternative One: It was Reeve, and he needed Vincent for yet another challenging WRO assignment. In which case, if Vincent didn't call back within the next hour or so, Reeve would send Yuffie to find out why.

Alternative Two: It was Yuffie, and she wanted to drag Vincent along on _her_ latest WRO assignment so she'd have an ear to yak deaf. In which case, if Vincent didn't respond within five minutes, she'd get his whereabouts from Reeve and beat down the door.

He kicked off the blankets reluctantly and reached for his boots. The bit of spring sky framed in his inn room window was overcast, and it would probably rain soon. In other words, it was a perfect day for doing nothing. Sometimes he really regretted buying that phone.

Somewhere beneath the pillow, the bothersome device chirped. Someone had left him a message. He reached for the phone with an air of weary martyrdom. One way or another, his day was shot.

X X X

His resentment evaporated at the WRO office door. Reeve was conferring with a grim-faced Yuffie. She looked up hopefully as Vincent entered.

Vincent shook the rain from his cloak and joined them, sensing that there would be no small talk. "What's wrong?"

Reeve looked no less troubled than Yuffie. "Two of Wutai's outlying villages were hit by slave raids yesterday."

Vincent looked at Yuffie. Her face and clothes were mudstained from travel. She must have been on a chocobo all night. He wondered why she hadn't called Cid, then remembered that Reeve's message had said the Shera was tied up on another mission.

"And I'll hang them all from the Pagoda once they're caught." Yuffie nodded, her mouth a hard line. "But we gotta catch them first."

Reeve got up to activate a projection screen and called up a map. "Three towns outside of Wutai were also hit, just across the border." He traced an arc of red dots across the area map. "They took mostly children. Yuffie was able to track one of the raiding parties here." He zoomed in on their current location, a seafaring town called Rus. "We believe they plan to ship the children from the city port and sell them overseas."

"It happened all the time during the Shinra war," Yuffie interjected. "With the able-bodied off fighting, the villagers left behind were easy prey."

_Children._ Vincent studied the map. "That makes sense," he agreed. "How do you plan to stop them?"

Reeve tapped the city's waterfront area, and the map zoomed in again. "My feline friend is already checking the warehouses here... and he saw a truck full of starberry packing crates being unloaded here." He tapped a blinking building.

"So?" Yuffie drummed her fingers against her cheek. She looked tired.

"Rus is famous for its coastal starberries -- but they don't ripen for six months yet," Reeve explained. "The crates are a disguise for the real shipment."

"The kids." Yuffie clenched her fists. "We've got to stop them."

"We will," Reeve assured her. "Here's the plan."

X X X

Vincent leaned around his stack of pallets and peered into the gloom. The same conditions that'd made the day perfect for doing nothing had also brought twilight early, creating ideal conditions for their mission. Unfortunately, the advantage worked both ways; the slavers would undoubtedly welcome the concealment of early darkness.

Shreds of fog were drifting in from the sea, hazing his view of the warehouse. For some reason, that made him nervous. He pulled out his radio. "How you doing?"

Her reply sounded strained. Reeve had made her take a nap before they set off, but it probably hadn't made up for all her lost sleep. "Vincent, so help me -- if you make me blow my cover, I will take your scarf away and _strangle_ you with it."

He chuckled. Being wedged inside a crawl-sized ventilation duct for six hours had not improved Yuffie's normally cheerful disposition. "Reeve thinks they'll show up any minute now. I had to make sure you were still conscious."

"Just because I'm sleepy and can hardly breathe doesn't mean I'm gonna pass out," she hissed. "Hang on. I think I hear something."

Her transmission clicked off. Vincent studied the dimly lit streets beyond the warehouse. The area was pretty much deserted, but two sets of headlights were approaching through the haze. Two trucks... up to four men, more if they had guards in back with the children.

He waited until both vehicles had vanished inside the warehouse, weighed his options, and made a decision.

"Two trucks," he told Yuffie. "Cait Sith was right -- this is the place. I'm going in now."

"Okay. Be careful."

"See, lassie! Vincent has confidence in me! Don't you worry now. All will be well."

"Shh, Sith!"

He slid the radio onto his belt. Any further transmissions really might give her position away. And he wanted to keep his scarf.

He kept to the shadows, moving from one stack of pallets to another until he was at the building's seaward doors. There he paused, a lick of crimson hardly visible amidst the twilight.

Inside, flashlights danced across the warehouse interior, revealing only glimpses of kerchiefed men in black until one of them turned on a single overhead light. In the flickering glare of fluorescent bulbs, he watched as they began forklifting starberry crates from one of the building's several towering storage shelves. The gaudily painted crates looked out of place in these grimy industrial surroundings.

He could hear occasional mutters now, spoken in the hushed tones of those whose work depends on secrecy.

"Faster. The boat will be here soon."

"You want faster, you pay more, hey?"

Vincent slipped inside, crouched behind a shelf and produced his scanner, then pulled himself half onto the dusty chest-high shelf, risking some altitude for a better look at the trucks.

Several infrared silhouettes, most of them small, huddled on the floors of both trucks. The children were here, all right. The slavers undoubtedly meant to load them into the disguising crates and then truck them out to the pier, where they could use a crane to lift the starberry containers onto the waiting ship in plain sight -- without attracting undue attention from the harbor patrol. It was not unusual for ships to load and depart at night in order to take advantage of the tides.

He unholstered his sidearm, which now sported a silencer on the end of its already threatening barrel, took careful aim, and blew out the light.

"What the..." The speaker didn't sound alarmed, only displeased. "Hey, guys -- I think the light just burned out or something."

"We can see that, genius."

"_Lousy_ timing."

"Hurry up and turn on another one."

"I can't find my flashlight -- put it down somewhere over here -- hey, who took it?"

"No one. You just _lost_ it. Here, use mine..."

A muffled grunt, then another. Vincent's radio hissed. "I'm ready, lassie."

Yuffie's voice, now calm and alert. "Me too."

Vincent nodded to himself and traded his scanner for night vision goggles. "Hit it. I'll clean up."

"Georgie? Uruko? Yo, you two sleepin' on the job or what?"

The trucks roared to life, drowning out angry shouts from the startled slavers as the vehicles suddenly surged forward, careening around crates and forklifts as their new drivers made a break for the door. Vincent made sure he wasn't anywhere near their path and hoped the kids would be okay. Yuffie could drive, but he wasn't so sure about Cait Sith.

A rattle of gunfire, swiftly truncated almost before the bullets had finished sparking off the back of one truck. "You _idiot!_ Hold your fire! Those kids are worth an easy six thousand gil each!"

"But they're gettin' away!"

The trucks shot through the door.

"Clear! We're clear!" He could imagine Yuffie pumping one fist in the air. Sure enough, the left truck swerved a bit. _Come on, Yuffie, hang on to the wheel..._ " Go, Vince!"

He flew into action, sighting in on his first target. He would have been more than happy to use regular bullets, but Reeve had insisted on tranquilizer darts so he could get an idea of the slaving ring's extent from the slavers themselves.

The shot sang off and one slaver collapsed, clutching his shoulder. Vincent ducked behind a forklift, lifted his firearm, and downed a second man before anyone realized what was happening.

"Roy? Hey, Roy, you there?"

He dropped a third man. His radio crackled.

"Vince, I'm in trouble! There's another --"

Static.

He grabbed the radio. "What happened? Yuffie? Yuffie!"

Nothing. "Cait, what's going on?"

"I dinna know, lad!" The automaton sounded frantic. "The lassie were right behind me, and then I saw somethin' flash and she stopped transmitting. I'm thinking mebbe she ran into more o' those criminals!"

Vincent hissed. "Get those kids to Reeve. I'll help Yuffie."

"Aye, lad, good call."

He was sighting in on the fourth man when he heard a shout. "Boss! Boss, Kilroy's got the second truck! He --"

"There's somebody here, you idiot! Shut up before he sees you!"

Vincent tracked the countershout, seeing in his night vision goggles one man kneeling over another. The remaining thug, setting a record for tactical stupidity, came running at his comrade's shout. Vincent got them both within seconds.

He holstered his firearm and started running. The unconscious criminals were irrelevant right now. Cait Sith and Yuffie had been following the waterfront when Yuffie's transmission cut out.

X X X

Yuffie hadn't gotten far. He could see the smoking cab from half a block away. His heart nearly stopped.

"Let go of me, you slimey misbegotten creep --!"

The little ninja was cornered on the end of a wharf, wrestling desperately with one assailant while three more closed in on her. Somehow, she must have gotten clear in time. A fifth slaver, still clutching his rocket launcher, lay silent on the asphalt. A large loading crane stood over all like a silent referee, its load of wooden pallets dangling like one of the scales of justice.

Vincent dropped one of the assailants with a snap shot, causing the others to pause. Yuffie took advantage of the distraction to hammer her wrestling partner on the chin, stunning him briefly. As he staggered back, she unleashed her Conformer.

At first Vincent thought she was throwing wildly, for the huge shuriken arced upward -- into the crane rigging above her, slicing through several ropes. The stricken lines parted with a snap, then hissed rapidly through the pulleys as the pallets began to descend on the group below.

"Yuffie!" He ran, knowing even as he shouted that he wouldn't get there in time. "Get out of there!"

She caught his gaze briefly, and to his surprise she was grinning -- the broad grin of someone who reveled in defying the odds. The Conformer flew into her outstretched hand and she went to her knees, driving one point into the wharf with all her might. Then she dropped flat.

The pallets crashed into her erstwhile opponents as they tried to run, except for one who was quick enough to dive off the wharf and into the dark waters below. Vincent flinched as the impact threw splinters and dust into his face.

He passed a hand over his eyes as the dust cleared. "Yuffie..."

He'd been standing there for what seemed hours when an incoherent groan finally caught his attention, but the still dissipating dust said only seconds had passed.

"Nggghhhh..." A set of slender fingers curled into sight, round the edge of the bottom-most pallet in the smashed-up jumble.

He was there in two steps, crouching to tug on the fumbling hand as his mind finally caught up. "Yuffie? Yuffie, are you all right?"

"I'm kinda squished," she wheezed, "and my ears are ringing, but otherwise I think I'm okay."

Vincent grabbed her other hand and pulled while Yuffie squirmed and emptied her lungs until he was able to drag her free and set her on her feet. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder and looked mournfully at the mess of wood concealing her giant Shuriken. The bottommost pallet, Vincent realized, must have caught on the Conformer's crossbar, creating the crawlspace that spared her life.

"It's totally buried. Guess I better kiss it goodbye, huh?" She smacked her fingers and waved at the mess. "Good-bye, my sweet Conformer. I'll never forget you. I'll compose haiku in your honor. I'll write you every day --"

Vincent sighed and kicked into the pile, splintering wood with his bronze boots until they struck metal. He had to use both arms to wrench the shuriken free of the wharf. "Here. Save the eulogy."

She clutched the weapon eagerly. "Conformer, you're back! Oh, I missed you so much!"

Vincent dragged a hand over his face. _The impact probably rattled her brains..._ She did look a little dazed.

"Come on." He hauled her off by the wrist. "We need to check on those kids."

X X X

Yuffie's truck was a write-off, but the kids, though frightened and bruised, were otherwise unhurt. Several were Wutaian and reacted to Yuffie with unabashed tears of joy. After that, the others were quick to trust their rescuers.

They decided to walk the children to the Rus WRO center rather than traumatize them by putting them in another truck. Vincent carried the smallest child on his shoulders while Yuffie let another ride piggyback.

Cait Sith was bedding the first truckload of children down when they arrived, while Reeve was juggling three phones to make arrangements to return them all home in the morning. Other WRO agents had picked up the slavers from the warehouse and wharf. Yuffie scrounged enough bedding for the second truckload while Vincent tried to detach his young friend, without success; the child had decided that she was _safe_ where she was and refused to let go until Yuffie lured her down with a bedtime story. Vincent left the two engrossed in a vaguely familiar-sounding tale of evil mansions and dangerous monsters and made his report to Reeve.

When he came back, Yuffie was curled up on the kid's cot, and the little girl's arms were fastened firmly around the ninja's neck. He decided against disturbing them, found an extra blanket instead, and draped it over them both.

"Thanks," Yuffie murmured sleepily.

"You're welcome."

**-The End**

_No flames, please. Don't like, don't read. That aside, I do appreciate hearing reader reactions. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one! I never intended to write this many, so this third chapter and any that follow owe their existence partly to you. (Yes -- what were you thinking?)_

_**Disclaimer:** This story not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Square-Enix, to whom all relevant characters and trademarks belong. **Let Freedom Ring** itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived._


	4. Bedtime Stories

**Bedtime Stories** _  
a post-FFVII: Dirge of Cerberus fanfiction by Tripleguess  
Fourth in the Radiance collection  
Possible **mild spoilers** for DoC  
Genre: Drama/Character  
Rated PG-13 lite for fantasy violence  
October 18, 2006 _

_Summary: You never know who's listening..._

"A story, Big Sister! Tell me a story!" Young eyes danced in firelight, imploring in time to energetic yanks on said big sister's arm.

"Nnng..." Big Sister was relaxing against a tree trunk, trying vainly to catch a nap at the end of this long day. Her patrols of the town's wooded outskirts had turned up nothing, which was reassuring in its own way; she didn't want her villages targeted again. But they'd also tired her out, and it was getting late, and she really wanted to sleep. Her weary brain, though, seemed unable to convey that much information to her mouth. "I don't know any stories, Ayame..."

"Yes you do! Yes you do!" Yank, yank.

The kid's energy, Big Sister mused, seemed inversely proportional to her own. "I do?"

"Uh-huh!" Yank. "Tell me the one you told me before, when you put me to sleep!"

"Oh, that one." Big Sister inhaled slowly, letting the scent of pine permeate her lungs. "You're okay with a rerun?"

Sensing victory, Ayame squealed in anticipation and flopped down on her tatami, clutching her chin in her hands.

"All right, then." Big Sister's eyes closed as she conjured up her emergency bedtime creation once more. "Once upon a time..."

X X X

Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in a foreign land far, far away. It was a tiny land, but also a happy and prosperous one.

One day, however, the land's wise ruler fell ill. He was greatly beloved by his daughter and people, and many prayers were made on his behalf. But still his condition worsened until it was whispered that he would soon die. His daughter cried herself to sleep night after night, fearing for his life.

One day, long after the sun had set, the ruler called for his daughter. She dressed in haste and went to him, crossing the threshold of his chamber at the stroke of midnight.

"My pearl and my treasure," the ruler began, "I am sorry indeed to be the cause of so much grief. Yet perhaps I can now begin to make amends. Being so close to death has brought great clarity to my dreams. In my visions last night, I saw why I have become ill."

He closed his eyes to gather strength, then went on. "There is a great kingdom over the sea where a great samurai lord once ruled with compassion and justice. But one of his generals grew jealous and overthrew him by deceit, for she lured him to a mysterious cavern deep beneath the palace and by wicked arts sealed him within a giant crystal. Then the general began to rule in the samurai's name, claiming that the samurai lord was ill and had made her his proxy. Some were suspicious when she forbid all visiting, letters, and get-well cards, but they dared not challenge the general."

The princess leaned closer, hanging on every word.

"Not content with stealing one kingdom, the imposter sent out evil one-winged birds to spread tainted crystal dust on the surrounding lands. Wherever that dust fell, the rulers of the lands became ill and began to die."

"And that is why you are sick?" the princess cried. "Because of those evil birds and their crystal dust?"

"Yes."

"But what can I do?" she pleaded. "How can we put a stop to this?"

"There is only one way, my daughter. You must take my fastest mount and cross the great sea. Then go to the palace of that kingdom and find a way to release the samurai lord from his crystal prison."

Then the ruler fell into a deep sleep from which the physicians could not wake him.

X X X

The princess knew that her father had little time. So she saddled his swiftest chocobo and set off across the great sea, taking only three of her most treasured possessions: her father's ring, whose stone was said to be the crystallized tear of a dragon; a necklace of materia pearls that had been her mother's; and a mighty shuriken that was her constant companion, for it had been forged from steel and diamond blood especially for her.

When she reached the country across the sea she faltered, for she could sense a thick cloud of evil and sorrow covering the land. And she wept, for the sorrow pierced her heart, but the evil could not overcome the protection of her father's ring. So she went on.

It seemed to her as though she traveled through the fog for days, but when she arrived at the palace the tears were still wet on her cheeks. So perhaps it was only moments, after all.

The palace was heavily guarded and there were many SOLDIERS coming and going, but this did not deter her, for she was also a shadow warrior and had been trained in the art of stealth from birth. She hid her chocobo and stole the clothes of a kitchen girl who was swimming in the river. Dressed as a scullery maid, she slipped into the palace with a group of washerwomen who were bringing fresh linens and uniforms, hiding her foreign face behind an armload of tablecloths.

Once inside, she ducked into the darkest corridor she could find and began following the grief in her heart. It led her ever deeper; past the kitchens, the barracks, the armory, and even the dungeons, until she was in a cramped passageway hacked from bedrock. At last the passageway ended at a stone door. She wiped her face and reached for the handle, and the door flew open at her damp touch.

Inside, a tiny black box lay on purple velvet. The princess laid her mother's necklace on the cloth and stepped inside its circle of materia pearls. Immediately she grew smaller, or the box grew bigger. In any case, she could now easily fit inside the box. She opened the lid and stepped in, fearing the dark interior but knowing from the grief in her heart what she must do.

The box seemed bottomless. She fell and she fell and she fell until finally a deep pool of water broke her descent. Although she was far underground, she could clearly see that she was in a cavern, for the pool was lit by many glowing crystals that clung to the walls. She remembered her father's dream and took courage, though the grief in her heart was stronger than ever.

As she pressed on, a great monster dropped from the cavern roof to block her way. He had flaming white eyes and great leathery wings which he spread to keep her from passing.

"Tell me why you are here," he demanded, licking his chops greedily.

"I have come to heal my father," she replied, though she was very frightened.

"Oh-ho, is that all?" The monster scratched his head in disappointment. "The master said to eat anyone who tried to free the samurai lord, but he didn't mention anything about fathers." Then he brightened. "But you look very tasty, and they forgot to send me lunch. I think I'll eat you anyway."

"Oh, no! That would be a foolish thing to do," she warned him. "If you eat me, you'll be stricken with the grief in my heart, and you'll waste away down here in endless mourning."

"You don't say!" the monster exclaimed in horror, for he could see the tears still running down her face. "Then I'm very glad you're only here to heal your father, since I would have had to eat you otherwise."

So he stepped aside and let her pass. He was not a very bright monster. The general was afraid to post a smart guardian for fear it would free the samurai lord to gain his favor.

As the princess walked on, the pain in her heart became sharper and deeper until she was crying uncontrollably. She could sense other feelings twisted in with the grief; fear, anger, loneliness, guilt... and longing.

At last she came to a marvelous chamber whose walls sparkled with layer upon layer of luminous crystals. At the center of the chamber was a single large crystal, and trapped within that crystal was a crimson-clad man who could only be the samurai lord. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed over his chest as though for burial. He looked peaceful except for the great pain in his sleeping face.

His fashion sense, the princess decided, was deplorable, but that wasn't any reason to leave him locked up. She raised her mighty shuriken and threw it straight at the samurai's grieving heart, shattering the huge crystal with a single blow.

X X X

The samurai lord was most grateful. He immediately set things straight with his treacherous general, a discussion which naturally involved much shouting and sword-waving as well as a summary execution or two. He pledged his eternal protection to the foreign princess, not that she needed it, and made her promise to call on him should she ever need aid. He also, without her knowledge, assigned the stupid monster to watch over her secretly in return for its life, a task the penitent monster undertook willingly since the princess had saved him from eating something so unwholesome as a grieving heart.

So she returned home over the sea on her chocobo with a heart lighter than the clouds, and found her father awake and rapidly regaining his strength. The crystal dust that had caused the sickness was rendered powerless by the death of its parent crystal, and so many other lands the world over rejoiced at the sudden recovery of their rulers.

The samurai lord undid the damage his general had caused as best he could, and ruled with even more wisdom and compassion than before. And they _all_ lived happily ever after.

X X X

Ayame blinked. "Except the general, right?"

"Except the general," Big Sister assured her, pouring herself a cup of tea from the campfire's kettle. "She went down in mako-hot flames."

Ayame stretched contentedly. "Oh, good."

A shadow at the edge of the firelight crossed its arms, almost indistinguishable against the night-shrouded forest. "That's not quite the way I remember it..."

Big Sister sucked in a surprised breath, and along with it half the hot tea. Vincent watched calmly as she choked, coughed, sputtered and flapped her hands. Goodness knew how long he'd been standing there.

"Darn you, Vincent! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I thought surprising a ninja was impossible," he said innocently.

She inhaled for a mighty harangue and went off into another coughing spasm. Vincent shrugged and helped himself to the tea.

**-The End**

_A.N. -- Hi everyone and welcome back. A few weeks ago I volunteered to babysit four kids while their usual caretaker ran an errand. To avoid being pulled in pieces (yank, yank), I told them part of the Lord of the Rings story, beginning with Bilbo's party. Would you believe they were spellbound? I was shocked. We're talking about kids who get bored of TV in under ten minutes, yet they hardly made a sound until I stopped. (Ha, then I caught it.) _

_BTW, Radiance now has more hits, alerts, reviews, and favs than anything else I've posted on FFNet. So a great big THANK YOU to everyone who gave me such neat feedback. You rock._

_I always appreciate hearing reader reactions. Yes, I mean yours. Favorite lines, random feedback, whatever -- it means a lot to me that someone enjoyed my work, cliche as it might be at times. (grin) _

_**Disclaimer:** This story not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Square-Enix, to whom all relevant characters and trademarks belong. No infringement is intended. **Bedtime Stories** itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived._


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